caudelac: (*facepalm*)
So I get home today after the Shards of Orn larp to find that part of my bedroom ceiling has caved in-- the part near the bathroom door. So there's a bunch of stucco all over a basket of stuffed animals and a pile books, and the pervasive smell of damp wood and plaster.


Fortunately, this is why the good lord invented beer & cider in bottles, and also gave me two good hands.
caudelac: (story: that way)
So, in a semi-predictable way, I did get some inspiration and in fact some aid in at least one Yuletide Madness fic-- which went far longer than I had planned, and which I only /now/ have finished, and so will not be able to upload until they open the archive for NYR fic uploads. Ah well! I'm... not entirely displeased with this one, and the recipient managed to get a comment through on the one I wrote for her, which was lovely.

In the meantime, the story I recieved, In Which Tazendra Catches a Thief, pleased and made me giggle to no end. No end, I tell you! It does the Steven Brust language quite well, and is satisfyingly Gen. Though it reminds me that I need to read the Vlad Taltos novels, in faith.

Anyway. Out I must pass. Nightall, and Happy Yuletide, Merry Christmas, and all of those swell and jolly things!
caudelac: (cannondrag)
As per usual, I will be finishing my [ profile] yuletide at the very last moment on the very last day. This is very nearly a tradition, at this point.
caudelac: (tokyo SMASH!!!)
Direct to Netflix Instant is the new Direct to DVD. Sheesh.
caudelac: (12 sided die-- geekness)
If nothing else, at least this job is the sort where the ability to accurately draw 20X20 rooms on graph paper is, in fact, a marketable skill.

Now if I could just have a few hours without the phone ringing so I can memorize magic missile...
caudelac: (angst.)
So far, the day seems to be completely made of suck.

To start with, no one seemed to get any sleep last night due to multitudes of nightmares and the like, at least half of which apparently involved Rabbit shouting horrid things in her sleep. Which, among other things, is absolutely mortifying, and unpleasant for Those who sleep next to her.

Secondly, I am at wukr.

The weekend, however, was not too shabby. Yesterday was mine and [ profile] marshalmeg's 1 year Anniversary, which was celebrated with much seafood and movies of hilarious, et cetera. And of course, there was the holiday of the secular and fuud-stuffed, which, as I have mentioned was delicious.

But anything even vaguely having to do with work and/or finances = the definition of suck.
caudelac: (Konstantinople)
Aha! July 20th. The day of braw attempts and poor communication.

That was black 44, wasn't it? I bet Mercury was so in retrograde that time. You know, like it is now.

Which is why I have few goals today more ambitious than consuming a lot of chocolate, drawing pictures of diabolical and godlike figments, and going to Raleigh for gaming, somehow. GURPS, you know.

This icon is pretty much the character I'm playing, except a girl. The character I mean, not the icon.
caudelac: (taco bell is not the russian winter.)
Either this drawing is going to snap to the fucking grid like the little tool SAYS it is supposed to be doing, or I am going to just plain fucking snap. How the fuck did you even get off the grid, you bloody...

Oh wait, it's time to go home.


Oh. Well.
caudelac: (*coughcough*)
So. Been here since 6:30 am. Same tomorrow. Therapy and gaming tonight. I am utterly alone here in the office. I will be flat on my back by this weekend, again. Watch.

9 CAD outlines to do, twelve proposal folders to set up. I suppose I should work on summadat, huh?

Yeah, probably.

Today, my Kingdom for a T-shirt which reads, 'I'd rather be eating Opium'.

And a paperweight shaped like concrete shoes.
caudelac: (I am spiritually pure.)
Dear Jesus: I accept you as my personal Lord and Saviour.

Please deliver me from Sin and downloading any more songs by the Brunettes.

caudelac: (cathedral Z screaming)
So, as both [ profile] marshalmeg and [ profile] silvarawilde mentioned, there were gunshots outside the house last night. Which always makes me think of Spain. But anyway. We were watching the (bloody excellent) BBC series of Ghormenghast last night too, which put us already in a dark and slightly feral mood, but lo. A bullet-- probably a 9mm-- likely hit the wall outside Sil's bathroom. Y'know, while she was in it.

This morning, the neighbor found a shotgun shell in front of the tree by the street (the house is set way back from such), and snarled a little. And the bosslady yelled at me for not calling the cops.

To tell the truth, the thought of calling the cops didn't even occur to me. But then, I would probably think of calling my senator before I thought of calling the cops. I... well, sort of know why, but I have this deep-rooted belief that the police are absolutely and utterly incapable of life. I dunno. Maybe it would have done some good, maybe not, but I find the cognative disconnect... interesting, anyway. I dunno.

Therapy and mexican food to-night. Right now: English muffins and paperwork.

How the mighty have splattered.

(And lo', a merry natal to [ profile] reynardbleu. Many happy returns of the day, ay wot.)
caudelac: (angst.)
Y'know what this house represents?

A futile attempt to force a little stability into a life that had gotten far too chaotic, even for my standards.

I really should have fucking known better.
caudelac: (splitting headache)
Things don't always work out the way one plans.

*disappears in a smear of scrubbing bubbles*
caudelac: (need.)

I now have five and a half hours to write several hundred more words of a fic in a fandom I have never written before, having gotten a plotbunny only two days ago.

Now we tell of [ profile] yuletide treasure indeed.

Oh yes-- and I have to bake my christmas oatmeal cookies for the entire legal community of Durham as well.

*cracks knuckles, winces.*

I can so do this.
caudelac: (Default)
Sometimes I think I ought to quit my job and become a manager at kinkos.

What the hell are those strange noises coming from the Leopardess's office?

I swear this entry would work better in haikus.
caudelac: (angst.)
House closing Wednesday, by the grace of God.

Internet connection Spotty, by the whim of the Devil.

Car refusing to go over twenty-five mph without losing power: Merciful Lord Deliver Me.

Office meeting today, bury me please.

Hot apple cider before me: Praised be heaven!!

Fuck you, Mercury Retrograde. We know you like to back it up, but this is fucking ridiculous.
caudelac: (money bunny)
You scored as The Dragon. Ancient, chaotic, and a bit mysterious is the Dragon figure. Awakened from your happy slumber upon a pile of gold, you go about the country slaying its occupants. Beowulf manages to kill you, but not before you ensure his death. Congrats.


The Dragon


Grendel's Mother












If You Were in Beowulf...
created with

Memes comfort Content. Price of Kingdom has risen: two periwigs, a boat with billowed sails, all my laundry done and ironed, and about 18 hours of uninterrupted sleep, OBO. Leave all inquiries/offers with the Castrato carrying the silver platter at the door. Pay no attention to the severed head of John the Baptist thereupon.

July 2017

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